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Dean Winchester didn't like to do things by halves. Therefore, when he committed himself to his very own twelve step program to overcoming the Mark of Cain, he made sure he was thorough.
When he said no to beer, burgers, and beer, he was also saying no to everything and anything that didn't leave to whiter teeth and a longer lifespan. If becoming a born again health freak was what it took to beat the mark, then so be it.
Trouble was, while Sam might be happy to live out his days like some kind of sanctified rabbit, Dean was three days into his plan and was already missing the good things in life. To make matters worse, he was seriously beginning to suspect someone upstairs was messing with him.
The first temptation came in the form of a 2-4-1 offer on pie. It was late afternoon and they’d realised all they had in the bunker was a jar of pickles so he and Sam had headed to the store. The pie was right by the front doors and they had it all, from Apple to Pecan. Fighting against his better judgement, Dean had walked past the stand and headed straight for the fruit and vegetables. Sam had been smart enough to keep silent.
The second temptation came as they walked through the sweets and biscuits isle so Sam could get his damn rice cakes. By this point Dean was in a foul ass mood and, as he stared longingly at the rows of colourful candy, he wondered if this was what women felt like when they had their period. The thought was disturbing enough to tear him away before he snagged a bag of Reese’s.
The third was bullshit because there was no reason for them to be anywhere near the alcohol, but someone had screamed and Dean’s hunter instincts had him abandoning the kart and running towards the source without a second thought. Of course, it turned out to be some kid’s ringtone and, as well as feeling like a doof, Dean was now surrounded by half price bottles of scotch. Sam actually had to manhandle him away.
Jesus’ forty nights in the desert was nothing compared to Dean’s forty minutes in Super-Mart. He’d been on autopilot when he headed towards the magazines and it was only when he spotted the new issue of ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ that he remembered the porn and jacking off were both on his no fly list. He needed to pay and get the hell out of here. Perhaps he’d shut himself in his room with a bag of kale chips.
Of course, Sam spotted the packet of mince-meat and held it up with a questioning brow that was bordering on bitch-face. Dean protested that it wasn't for burgers but apparently Sam didn't trust him enough for that. The brioche buns went too and Dean honestly had no idea when he put those in.
Dean deliberately took the long way home to avoid the strip with all the local fast-food joints. His brain was still on burgers and his stomach was protesting loudly against the injustice of it all.
As they waited at the lights, the woman who crossed the road had the best rack Dean had ever seen. Clean Dean prevented him from honking the horn like an asshole.
They arrived to find Cas waiting for them at the door. Apparently his search for Cain had taken him back in their direction and he claimed he needed a rest. Dean was about to get all indignant when he noticed that, shit, yeah, the guy looked wiped.
Several hours and a dinner of grilled chicken salad later, Dean had his feet up in the library, pouring over old texts in the continued effort to stumble across a mark related miracle. He didn't hear Cas until the angel was standing right in front of him. He about dropped his book when he saw what Cas was wearing, or wasn't wearing if he was being more honest.
“I hope you don’t mind, I felt it would be nice to take a shower. The water pressure-“
“Yeah.” Christ when did his voice get that high? “That’s… that’s fine, man.”
Cas was wearing a goddam towel.
“Uh Cas, why aren't you in your clothes?”
Cas looked a little sheepish, “I thought I might sleep, and wondered if you or Sam, uh, had anything I could borrow?”
Dean was ninety percent certain he was sweating, “You want to sleep?” The question was really pushing the boundaries of what his brain was capable of at that moment.
“Yes. It’s unusual. But being on earth like this, my grace, it seems to be... getting to me. I thought perhaps resting would help. Unless you have another suggestion?
Dean’s brain about short-circuited at that. Visually, all he was processing was an expanse of tanned skin pulled over a toned stomach and hip bones that were doing things to him that were as far removed from clean as you could get. Add the light trail of hair that began at Cas’ naval before disappearing into the towel and Dean was one hundred percent done for.
As for his other senses, hearing had left the building, smell was reporting all things pleasant, and touch and taste were revving the engines.
He’d spent all day denying himself the things that made him feel good but this was one thing too many.
Fuck it, he thought as he tossed the book behind him, fixed Cas with his most alluring grin and all but pulled him onto the couch.
The towel didn't quite make it.